Rising Star
by LLCoyote
Summary: Jade was always different. A star born to burn so bright that every other thing in her galaxy would see her, feel her, and be infinitely changed by her at the moment they crossed paths. I want to tell you the story of those cosmic encounters through the eyes of those she touched the most. This is the life of the extraordinary Jade West. Eventual Jade/OC


**Hola! That's Italian for **_**food**. _**Anyway, here is my new series, or at least one of them. I'm not sure how long this one will be.**

**Basically I'd like to see Jade's like from the eyes of others. I've always wondered 'how did this person meet Jade and what do/did they think?' I want to try to formulate a way to show how greatly Jade has effected the lives of those around her be it good or bad. There may be some chapters in her point of view but I want those to stay at a minimum.  
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**This is more of a substance story, in fact just like NMODS it's starting out as a personal experiment, I want to see where this takes me. Hopefully it'll end up the same as my other story and I'll actually finish it and be proud of it when I look at it.  
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**The rating FOR NOW is T. I'll try not to cuss too much, no extreme gore, I even tried to stay non-graphic with the birthing in this chapter. But I do intend to incorporate my OC in the mid to last chapters, which will be the love interest for Jade here so I'm not promising that this story won't get straight up filthy somewhere along the line.  
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**I had fun writing this, I hope you enjoy reading it. I'm really excited to explore the different things I could do with this story. Much love all.  
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**LLCoyote  
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**As always, I don't own Victorious. Hell right now I'd settle for watching it on FUCKING DIRECT TV!  
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If I live to be a million years old, I'll never forget giving birth to my first child. Even if my mind is stricken with old age and other thoughts fade into the blurred blackness of mental ailments, I won't loose a single detail of the day I had my daughter, nor the events that lead to her being born. Every second is burned into my mind like a cow's rump that has been branded with a hot iron. The memory is so spectacularly vivid that it reoccurs in my dreams and in my wondering everyday thoughts. This isn't a bad thing, of course, because the day I gave birth to a little baby girl was one of the happiest in my life. Yet the clarity of the memory is almost painful. I can hear the thoughts I was thinking, and feel that horrible pressure in my lower regions like it happened only seconds ago...

__**wmvmw**__

Twenty is no age to have a child. The human body is so ripe with youth and the mind so plump having been stuffed like a glutton with naivety . The consequential product of these two natural factors is that you're too blinded to the truth to even understand the monumental task of parenthood. But I was desperate at that point in time. I married Robert West at the age of 18 after only three months of dating in high school. At the time, I couldn't imagine tying myself to anyone else for the rest of my life. He was smart, calm, gentle, and handsome. I was young, pretty, stupid, and needy. My mother strongly believed in women marrying being their number one priority. If you couldn't find a man then you were apparently worth nothing at all. At 17 she began turning up the heat on my young mind, trying to rile my relationship with Robert into a boil... and boy did it work.

Robert never seemed especially excited about getting married... and that should have been a good warning of things to come. I never really noticed it back then. Why should I worry about the fickle moods and distracted glances to other women that my fiance frequently demonstrated? I was young, engaged, and according to my mother, on the road to a blissful future. Laying beside him at night I fantasized about our wedding, or the honeymoon, or our own little place some special some where. I never knew the shit storm that waited for me just beyond the threshold of two little words. Before my preacher, my family, Robert, and God himself, I sealed my fate with, "I do," followed by a whole mess of happy tears. It was right in that moment that I started down the path that would lead to the eventual birth of my little girl, even though she would not arrive in this world for two entire years.

I left on my honeymoon with Robert that night, unappreciative of my final weeks of ignorance. Soon after we came home from Italy, my world began to change. Know this story isn't about Robert, but in order to understand the extraordinary event that was the birth of my daughter, you first must know the extenuating circumstance in which I found myself. I was in love with a man who wasn't capable of reciprocating my affection. I'm not sure if it was singularly my fault, or if he was just not able to love anyone or anything... except for sex of course. It wouldn't have even been bad if he'd loved sex with me, but Robert felt no need to limit himself to one woman, nor did he consider the bond of our marriage a restraint when it came to carnal indulgences. I don't think it was even a week after we arrived home I found out he was in bed with another woman... in OUR HOME!

Of course we fought, and immediately I ran home to my mother. In a strange, almost ironic way I'm not sure I'd have even had a child with Robert had it not been for that night, or should I say had it not been for my mother. My tears were met with an overly dramatic fawning which I'd later learn to be more manipulative than comforting. In my mother's eyes Vivian Emily West was not about to smudge perfect family records with a divorce, she'd make damn sure of that. With a gentle calmness my mother comforted me and insulted me in one grand swoop. She reassured me that what he did was terrible and said it was such a shame I'd been unable to satisfy him. After wailing hysterically about my incompetence in the most underhanded ways she could think of, my mother informed me I was simply not good enough for marriage and I was to break it off with Robert and to come live with them once again. I vehemently refused her offer and denied her absurd idea that I couldn't make my marriage work, unknowingly playing right into her hands. I would remain married to Robert and we would be happy together. Upon hearing this declaration, my mother explicitly explained what I needed to do to keep him tied to me forever. She told me in that case the best chance at succeeding was to get pregnant immediately.

Stupidly, I ran home that night to set our demented little plan into action. My mother was right, she had to be! Getting pregnant would undoubtedly boost Robert's confidence, give him something to protect/provide for, and cement us together. We would go to doctor appointments together, think of names, fantasize aspects of our child's looks or personality and the dreams we had for them, and most importantly he'd be forced to spend more time with me than any other woman. He'd simply be too busy between work and keeping a pregnant wife. My husband remained oblivious to the plan for a good month or so before I finally told him I wanted a baby. Robert had become suspicious of my lustful attitude, making me confess my deceitful ideas. Surprisingly, he jumped right on the idea and we began to try and make a family.

There was only one little problem... I couldn't get pregnant. At first we attributed our unsuccessful attempts to have a child to bad luck. We played it off with awkward laughter, though I could feel his silent contempt for me growing. Robert always thought of me as entirely incompetent and my inability to get pregnant was no exception. It wore on me too. I wanted a baby and a happy marriage. I was obsessed with the idea. Finally we could no longer blame poor luck and turned to medical science. Our family doctor ran a few tests before referring us to a specialist and set me on the start of a tiresome journey. Months turned into a year of hormone and fertility specialists. I had more sex than I can even describe, took test after test, and even changed my whole diet but when it came down to it the hard facts were, I was **not** going to bring a baby into this world by stroke of anything less than a miracle.

Our marital problems did not improve as time went on. He continued to cheat conspicuously and as time when on I simply turned my head. I chose to ignore his adulterous ways and concentrate on making everything look absolutely perfect. There was no way I was going to wind up the family failure, even if I tortured myself by staying with that man. I cooked, cleaned, and preformed my wifely duties with a smile so big, sometimes I think it looked more like a grimace. We abandoned all hope of having a child, and I mourned that revelation alone. From the time I was little myself I remember playing with baby dolls and copying everything my mother did with Susan, my younger sister. For once I didn't care about how big of a disappointment this would be to my family, and just focused on how much it hurt me. Without even the hope of a child my life seemed to look bleak and boring at best. I'd be alone, desperately clawing at the fabric of my miserable marriage, with no human warmth that I could turn to for affection. I dare say I needed a baby if only to keep me sane.

When I missed my period, I was too distraught to notice. It wasn't until I started gaining weight and missed a second monthly cycle that I realized something out of the ordinary, no something extraordinary was happening to me. I bought ten pregnancy tests within the next week, I'd buy two of each brand just to make sure the first one wasn't broken. I checked again and again, and the little pink plus sign never abandoned me. In a flurry of tears I ran to my mother who took me to a doctor, who confirmed without a doubt that I was going to be a mommy of my own. Robert had been recently employed as an accountant downtown and he 'worked late' that night, but it didn't matter. I was having a baby. Me! I wasn't about to let that dreadful hound of a man defecate all over my happiness.

My initial happiness was short lived. Pregnancy was not kind on my poor body. I was in and out of the hospital and spent countless hours vomiting, mostly alone. Almost all of my time was spent in the bathroom, hurling for all I was worth and then I'd pass out on the cold blue tiles to allow my body rest and relief. My weight dropped, I had little to no energy, and as time passed, my movement became slow and ungraceful. This struggle for health and the survival of my child was fought alone. For the most part I feel Robert only pretended to be pleased in the new addition to the family. When sickness struck like a hurricane, he took cover from me far away in the arms of multiple women. He didn't take care of me once during those days... but I knew better than to expect him too. Over the course of our short marriage I'd learned that I could no longer depend on any one for my own sake and surely not for my child. I was to be the soul caretaker of the precious little life of the baby inside of me... and I wasn't about to let it down. What ever it took, whether it be painful or hard, I gave that to my child. It zapped every bit of my strength and there were times when I was encouraged strongly to give up my child, for fear that if I kept it I'd loose my life. They didn't seem to understand that my life didn't matter any more. The heartbeat that mattered was that of the one kicking around in my uterus. Even as a baby, my daughter chose to fight and rebel against someone who'd give anything for her, determined to find her way out and into the world... her **own** way.

At a couple of weeks past eight months pregnant, I decided I needed a break. Robert and I had a huge fight over what I'm sure was something incredibly important like the trash not being taken out or something. I took the car and drove to the beach in North California. I rented a small place for the night right on the water in order to relax and get away from my life. I needed somewhere I could pretend that Robert, my mother, and pretty much everyone else in the world didn't exist. The place was run down, more like a shack than anything, but I spent little time inside anyway. The July heat was suffocating and inviting at the same time. I bathed in that warm light and let my conscious mind fade away to black. Right there in the warmth of the sand that caked around my ocean sprayed legs, in the secluded quiet of the day, I finally found some peace. It felt like for once in years I was really breathing. Life giving air was really filling my lungs. With every exhale, my stress floated further away and my illness seemed to fade. I found that determined part of the human spirit that gives you your last little kick of strength to fight when you're on the ground. And I knew I could do this. I could love and raise this baby even if I had to do it alone. After all, I'd been strong enough to defy the odds and get pregnant, and I'd made it this far through my sickly pregnancy. In eight months I'd learned to turn from my dependent ways and stand up on my own. Yes, I could and I would raise this baby.

My personal epiphany relaxed me and I'm quite certain I thought of nothing else for the rest of the day. I aimlessly walked to shoreline, picking up shells and corals from the beach and I watched the sun dip slowly down and make it's retreat behind the horizon. That night, I set a blanket out of the beach and laid down to go to sleep. The crashing ocean waves were like Heaven's lullaby, so raw and beautiful. I was unaware at the time that such young children were capable of such viciousness but now, as I age, part of me believes Jade planned her cruel, spiteful entry to the world. My first peaceful day in months was about to be violently disrupted. Near one in the morning labor struck me like lightening. I woke up with a pitiful groan of pain and what felt like only moments later a never ending flow of liquid burst from my legs. I was entirely on my own. What good would it do me to get up and run? I was half a mile from my little shack at best, which then would mean getting into my car and driving another hour back to a city with a hospital in it. But on the other hand that almost seemed like a plausible option, I wasn't especially strong in health and didn't know exactly how well I'd do giving birth on my own, stranded. I had no choice though. She was coming and **_fast_**.

Unable to do anything else, I groped for my phone in the darkness and dialed 911. My call was met by an attentive, yet overly talkative young woman who was new to the job and took what seemed like an eternity to get someone on the way to assist me. Her vocal pitch heightened with each labored scream that tore from my throat. It felt like being pulled through a tiny hole, my upper body could get through, but my belly was stuck. An enormous amount of pressure was radiating between my legs and I don't remember ever screaming as loud as I did in that moment. The warm, comfortable sand of the day now felt like tiny daggers between my toes and the ocean seemed unbearably loud. Thick salty air seemed to catch inside of my heaving lungs. I couldn't think straight. What did I learn in Lamaze class? My session last week seemed to be years behind me right then as my mind struggled to get a hold of any logical though. Yet all I remember was being afraid. So utterly doused in cold, stinging terror right then. My baby was coming! The contractions were closer together. Sharp, unimaginable pain that didn't seem possible flooded my body. My previous revelation and self assurance fled from me and in galloped a stampeding herd of panicked questions. Would I be a good mother? Had all of my work during pregnancy pay off? What do I do once I have it? Will I even live to see it come out? Doubts and questions swarmed my mind but I forced myself to remain calm... and to push.

I pushed and pushed until I just couldn't push any more. There was nothing left to push. My strained, abused throat gave out one last ear splitting cry and then there was nothing. No stabbing pain, only an empty feeling, slight soreness, and relief. The loud, angry cries of a baby filled the night air as I tiredly forced myself to sit up. With trembling fingers I lifted the strong, healthy, ornery child into my arms, clutching her against my breast in utter ecstasy. I used the blanket I was sitting on to clean her the best I could and then I rocked her gently despite the ache of my tired muscles. No physical pain could distract me from the over whelming high that was holding my baby girl, my miracle, in my arms. After she was completely free of fluids and I was sure she was in no immediate danger I allowed myself to relax and waited for the ambulance to arrive. For what felt like the longest time I just held her and thanked God for her. I couldn't be more thankful for this precious gift. Her big emerald eyes opened to stare at me, crying and kicking in childlike contempt. Even as a baby she was picky and difficult to please. I stroked her lovingly and hummed until she settled, staring up at me in an eerily calm moment of eye contact. Such a strange little child. A strange, beautiful, rarity that I couldn't be happier to hold. Her name was immediately apparent, almost as if she'd already had it and I was simply being introduced to her. I kissed her head and sighed, "My _**Jade**_. So precious and lovely... you're the best thing that has ever happened to me." That name. Jade. It would be the only thing I ever did she approved of... I had no idea what I'd just gotten into.

__**wmvmw**__

The arrival of Jade in my world was met with thunderous sounds of approval from everyone I knew. Even Robert seemed pleased, though it did little to change his disgusting behavior. My mother could not have been happier, in fact she seemed just as excited as I was. In the short month after Jade's birth I remember practially living at mother's house as she showered the both of us with affection. It seemed the fact that I was a failure as a wife no longer mattered to her, because I'd defied all odds and had a child. I'd given her a grand baby to distract herself from dictating my life and frowning upon the social consequences I suffered for not fighting Robert's lustful ways. We dressed the beautiful, brown haired baby in costumes and dresses. After a while we even pierced her little ears, giving my mother another excuse to buy things for her. Of course Jade squirmed and protested the whole time, as though she though it undignified even at her age. We pretended not to notice those tiny little oddities, and convinced ourselves that Jade enjoyed our attentions.

I remember being very happy in those months, stupidly so. For once in three years I was not under any pressure from anyone. My mother finally approved of something I'd done, my distant and overly critical husband had started to show mild interest in our family, and our neighbors were finally content to get their brown noses out of our private business. I was one of seven mothers new mothers in our neighborhood which finally gave me a place to fit in. I hadn't had any friends since high school ended when I married Robert, so that was a huge deal for me. They weren't particularly nice women. Being with them meant being subjected to a sickening flurry of rather cruel neighborhood gossip. They were two faced, self inflated, egotistical women, but we all had one thing in common and that was enough to make me stick around. We were caught up high on a cloud of newborn bliss. Sharing stories about what our children did or giving each other helpful tips about toys, foods, and getting our children to sleep distracted us from the fact that we really didn't like each other and make us giddily happy.

But such blissful feelings were fleeting as Jade grew. She was a very... peculiar baby. Very smart and attentive, she soaked up things like a sponge. Her motor skills were months ahead of other children her age and her mental skills weren't far behind them. As time moved on it suddenly became painfully difficult to simply ignore the things that made her so different. It was almost disturbing how Jade progressed. While the other neighborhood mothers were applauding their children for rolling over, I was trying to keep my child from crawling away. It sounds foolish, because she was only a small baby, but Jade seem to despise the gurgling group of infants that surrounded her. She would cry angrily and crawl away at first. Anything it took to escape the small group of babies. Jade did not bother hiding her disdain for others then any more than she does now. She didn't like them, so should would escape them... I was somewhat relieved because that was at least a manageable behavior, even if it did get me some nasty looks from the other mothers. But Jade's personality was practically set in stone from birth and true to her nature, she escalated and quickly went from most beloved, to well feared and disliked.

Around two years old Jade's tolerance for other babies and toddlers had reached an end. She would no longer be pleased by sitting in a gaggle of drooling morons content to slam toys against the wall and scream while grinning idiotically. Pleased may not be the right word, because Jade had never been happy with other children, or people in general but you get my point. The problem was that her behavior began to escalate from something I could deal with, to something I was powerless to stop. A remarkable child, the girl practically weaned herself off of my breast on her own around five months! I think on some level she understood that drinking milk meant being held, and Jade wasn't a very cuddly child. At the age of two had already begun to speak in five or six word sentences and was amazingly dexterous and graceful. She used these advanced skills with cunning that I couldn't have ever imagined. From childhood Jade began to formulate ways to get her way. I'd often catch her in lies, or at times even stealing! Her behavior turned surly toward the other children, often biting them or letting out amused giggles as they cried when she took their toy. She frequently refused to be taken out of the bath and if anyone but me tried to feed her she'd spit the food all over their faces. And her mien was not any better toward adults.

Jade's strangely quiet and defiant attitude quickly made a riff in her relationships with most adults. She simply disturbed people and I think she quite liked it. I know that this was partly Robert's fault. He was a distant parent who seemed to rapidly be coming to the conclusion that he didn't like Jade. What small interest he'd started taking in us had faded away as Jade grew both in age, and personality. Strange, because many of the things he found unsettling in Jade came from his side of the family or were learned directly from him. I know she got her oddly aloof disposition from him and that it was his fault that she knew any 'bad words' at all. Perhaps causing trouble was the only way for Jade to get the attention of her father and that is why she did it so often. Though, deep down inside of me, I think on some degree I always believed... Jade just had a talent for causing mayhem. It didn't matter if Robert scolded her or if I punished her when it came down to it, we could get her in as much trouble as we wanted, but she'd turn right around and do something again. And it wasn't just her misbehavior that frightened people but her off sense of humor and strange habits that drove others away.

I remember once Robert sat down to watch "The Lion King" with her, if only to give me a few moments rest. About half way through the movie he came stomping into the room looking positively furious. "You need to go fix **your** daughter." He'd said pointedly. I didn't miss the way that he did not claim her. That was becoming a more frequent phrase in our house. **Your** daughter. She was entirely mine and he wanted no part of her. I'd begun to hate him for it. A devout catholic, I'd sworn never to feel such an evil emotion but the more I watched his cold, detached manner toward Jade the more stronger it grew inside of me. I swung my legs off of the bed and snapped the book in my hand shut. "There is nothing wrong with Jade, Robert. If you'd take five seconds to realize you're the root of half of her 'problems' and at least try to understand her then-" My rant was abruptly cut off by the sound of the unrestrained laughter of my three year old in the next room. A giggling that was almost maniacal, that sung along with the cries of two other children her age.

I frowned and rushed from my bed down the hall and into the living room. Jeffry and James, my sister in law's two twins that we'd agreed to watch for the day, were a mess of sobs on the floor. The little toe-headed boys were holding each other sweetly, staring at the screen through their tears. Jade was on the couch, kicking her feet and chuckling while pointing at the very same sight that made the twins cry so adamantly. She was waving the remote around and had apparently figured out how to pause the movie. My eyes flicked over to see Simba, with his little paws on Mufasa, trying desperately to 'wake him up' even though it was sorely obvious that he was deader than a doornail. At the moment, I wasn't sure how to react. I mean, what could I do? Technically Jade hadn't done anything 'bad' just very... off putting. A cold feeling swept down my spine and tingled me to the core. Out of all Jade had done, she'd never shown such morbid amusement before. What's worse was that she seemed to comprehend it fully and not only was the scene itself side-splitting to her, but the reaction of her cousins appeared to enhance the wicked fun she was experiencing. Up until now, I'd thought that she was simply going through a phase. 'Experimental aggression' or something like that was what all the books had said. It was 'normal' they said... but looking at her wide, toothy grin and seeing an almost predatory glint in her eye I could not attest to their theories.

This was not... normal. It just wasn't right at all! I remember watching the movie myself with Jade when she was around one. The first time I saw it I'd cried my eyes out just like the little boys. I did not, and will probably never understand this strange phenomenon and how it occurred so early on in her life. At the moment of the incident I abruptly snatched the remote from her, and in a scolding tone attempted to Jade why that was **_not_ **funny... but my harsh criticisms were only met with only big brown eyes, filled with confusion. They filled to the brim with little tears caused by my uncharacteristic display of anger and then she fled to her room. It was hard, you see, to view her as only a child sometimes because I never knew just how much she understood. I could never seem to find that line that pinpointed her exact intellectual standing or to figure out when to scold her or when to let it go. That was a task that I would find myself constantly struggling with from the moment I heard her door slam on it's hinges for the first time. Unsure of what to do next, I sunk down in the chair and covered my eyes with my palm, deciding to let her be. It was then that I began realize that my daughter would not 'grow out' of her oddities, rather embrace and become more sophisticated in them.

Jade continued on that same path even as I tried to pull her away from it. She'd take off her poofy pink dresses, draw on her dolls with dark black marker, and trample her pretty hair bows on the ground. I fought her tooth and nail. Insisting that she do things like play pretend, or little make overs (which was a huge mistake on my part and one ended with me missing a large chunk of hair). As her third year progressed, Jade wore me down little by little. I could only take so much fighting. By four years old she'd effectively squandered away all of my residual hope of her being a 'girly' girl. For a while I sulked over that. My pity part did nothing but encourage Jade. She became more strong willed than ever as my resentment for who she was growing up to be took deeper root. During that time I seldom remember doing anything but ignoring Jade because that was all I could think to do. I didn't have a vast amount of child rearing knowledge and everyone had turned on me by that point. They didn't understand that I could no sooner stop my child's un-ordinary development than I could flap my arms and take flight! My mother, for once, seemed to understand though. She watched me raise Jade like a hawk watches its prey and she was the only one that understood that I couldn't force the unruly child into anything. In the beginning she had judged me, but after sending Jade over to her house for a weekend, her attitude transformed completely. The revelation made my mother avoid Jade, which meant avoiding me, and I became even more discouraged than ever.

My hands off approach to parenthood didn't last too long. I slowly saw my intolerance for Jade affecting her, no, hurting her. When she'd tug at my leg and I'd shoo her away I could see flickering pain and anger. She began to withdraw from not only me, but everyone in general. Much too much of her time was spent alone in her room and when I suddenly became aware of this one night while I lay in bed, my anger for Jade turned on me. While no one else blamed me for pulling away and leaving Jade to her own devices, I felt disgusted with myself. After all, she was my miracle. My strange, defiant, naughty little miracle but that didn't make her any less spectacular. I rose from my fitful sleep and crept into the dark expanse of Jade's room. She didn't like night lights, and usually didn't sleep through the night if we didn't pull her drapes closed so I was forced to feel around in the pitch black until I knelt by her bed. My hands found their way into her wavy brown locks, soothing them against her pillow. I cried and prayed for forgiveness, from God, from **_her_**, but I'm not sure Jade ever really knew of my repentance, better yet accepted it.

After those few months of self pity and my self appointed night of repentance, I came around and my relationship with Jade improved... slightly. Fights between us became few and far in between when I stopped expecting her to be something she wasn't. At only four years old, Jade was her own little person, set completely apart from me. This isn't to say I let her run wild or undisciplined, or even that I encouraged her idiosyncrasies. I'd still punish her when she misbehaved and I remained the same up beat, cheerful, silly mommy I'd always been despite the fact that my daughter was a walking raincloud, just waiting to pour down on someone's head. Jade began to ignore me when she didn't agree with me, rather than throw a tantrum or rear back against me. It was a strange, unconscious mutual respect we had for each other that allowed our relationship to grow. However respecting me, and respecting others were two entirely different things to Jade.

It wasn't until she was five that Jade found a first real 'victim'. One person that set the stage for many to follow in her suit. That poor unfortunate woman was Coleen... my mother in law. Coleen was a nervous, elderly woman with the eyes of a snake, beady and cold. Her face was old and long, distorted by many low hanging wrinkles and bags. Grey, curly hair was always pinned firmly out of her place and into submission in a bun so tightly that it pulled on those wrinkles and on her thin, pale lips. She was skinny and her withered back was in a constant, low hanging arch. So much so that she was required to hold herself upright with a long cherry wood cane that amazingly long, boney fingers would wrap around. Years of piano playing had knotted and gnarled those digits to the point where I sometimes couldn't bare to look at them. Like a witch's fingers curled around her broom. Her frail body was accompanied by a vastly paranoid mind, a nervous disposition, and a tendency to forget or simply not notice some things. The darkest parts of me don't really blame Jade for turning against her grandmother. Not only was she easy... she was hateful and deserving.

Coleen hated me. She always had. I was in no way 'good enough' for her son. She blamed me for 'corrupting' her son and 'turning him into a cheater'. According to her, Robert had always been a perfect and agreeable young man but I drove him crazy and to the point of extremes. It wasn't just Robert that she hated me for, it was everything about me that she abhorred. Coleen was raised by very harsh parents. She had a set standard for exactly how young ladies should act. A long list of mannerisms and skills that was one thing she **never** forgot. I barely fit into those standards and Jade missed them by a long shot. The old bat was constantly making derogatory marks, or getting onto Jade for practically nothing. Her insults weren't restrained any better when her attention was aimed my way. Coleen preyed on people's insecurities and fears. She always found that tiny little knot that if she shot her ill words toward would cripple your whole structure. Unlike me though, Jade was not content to sit by while some self righteous, stuck up, old, windbag insulted us.

The first time she really went after Coleen, Jade was only about five years old. Robert had lost his job (again), and we needed money. Normally I wasn't one for hand outs, but I had a child to think of. Jade needed things and things cost money. So I would subject myself to the costly hand out... because it most certainly wouldn't come free. No doubt my dignity would be the due paid. Coleen wouldn't be content until she had ripped into me like a panther. Normally I'd have sent Robert to do the job, she never went after him, but for once he had a legitimate job interview. By legitimate I mean it wasn't just an excuse to get out of the house and shag his girlfriend. This was a really nice job too, one with health insurance that we really needed. Luckily up until this point in her life, Jade had been blessed with rude health. The worst of her physical afflictions were allergies in the spring. But my own health still took nose dives downward, and no doubt there would be vaccinations and things needed for Jade to get into kindergarten this year.

I remember it was raining that day. Actually it was pouring, something I'd scarcely seen happen in California. God had opened up the skies over L.A. and the water practically ran toward the parched earth below in large, stinging cold drops. Jade was already wearing a surly demeanor. She did not like this grey, cold weather that soaked her clothes to the bone and she most certainly did not like the polka dot rain boots on her feet. In the ten minute ride from our house to her grandparents, Jade had removed those boots twice and huffed like a little dragon when I made her put them back on. In one final attempt to rebel she tried to lock the door on me as I went to get her out of the car. I stood there under the cover of my umbrella, banging furiously on the window. "Jade August West! You open this car window right this instant or you won't get to watch TV the rest of the day!" I'd threatened, yet her face remained passive and uncaring. "They're ugly!" The small girl replied moodily, "They're ugly and I won't go anywhere in them. You can't make me!" Entirely fed up with the situation, I stuck the key in the door and forced the lock to give way. "They're only rain boots, and they look just fine. Now you have five seconds to exit the car before I pick you up and **carry** you in Jade." This time, my threat got her. Jade had always hated being lifted.

The tiny brunette unbuckled her own car seat with nimble fingers and then slid down onto the paved driveway into a puddle. It only seemed to stoke her flaming anger and she stomped under my umbrella, making sure I knew just how unhappy with this situation that she was. Still, I grabbed her little hand and lead her calmly up the driveway. It was best not to put too much stock into Jade's moods, they were fickle as the wind itself. Before we knocked I knelt down in front of her, fussing with her hair. "Now, be good for grandpa please Jade. I'll get you some ice cream ok?" I pleaded, the last thing I needed was a fight right now. Instead of dignifying me with a response, she glared furiously at the door. I wondered for a moment if she thought that she could burn a hole straight through that red wood with her eyes, because I knew she wanted to. The contempt inside her blazed like a wild fire. When we arrived on the stoop, she looked else were, even as her grandmother opened the door. Coleen didn't even bother to cover up her scowl when she looked at me, but forced a smile at Jade, who wouldn't even look at her.

"Why don't you go in there and sit with grandpa?" She said tersely, waving a hand back into their living room where my father in law, Frank, sat snoring in a Lay-Z Boy. She scowled hatefully but went inside anyway, simply wanting to be free of the rain. The instant she was in the door, Jade threw her jacket down and kicked her boots off in the middle of the hall, then simply walked away. I should have just gone home right then. This was not proving to be a promising endeavor already... and it had only been minutes. I cleaned up the muddy mess my daughter had left in her wake and followed Coleen into the kitchen.

The conversation wasn't really important. It went just about as well as I'd expected. By the end of an hour I walked out of the kitchen with tear stains on my face and a check in my purse. There was no way I could face my daughter at the time. As much as I disliked Coleen and as much as she hated me, she was Jade's grandmother and I didn't want to soil their relationship any further. So I tried to discreetly slip into the tiny bathroom that sat right off of the kitchen. Before I closed the door I dared to sneak a peak at Jade, who was sitting innocently on the couch, watching TV. Knowing that she was ok gave me the freedom to simply sit there on the toilet and cry. Coleen had been especially cruel in her insults today, many of them had to do with Jade. She'd even claimed to hate her granddaughter because I had, 'allowed her to become a little beast'. At one point in the conversation she threatened to call child services and have her taken away. I knew it wouldn't happen. We were down on our luck but no where near to the point where we'd loose anything. Robert faced unemployment many times, and we always made it in the end. But the implication made that I don't take care of my daughter still stung painfully.

I don't remember how long I was in there. Like an idiot I hadn't really kept much watch on the time. It wasn't until I heard a thumping on the door that I grabbed a giant mass of toilet paper, wiped my face, and exited the hot bathroom. Jade was standing about a foot from the door, arms crossed over her chest. "I want to _go_ now." She snapped. Her angry eyes surveyed my face for a brief moment but then she turned away and started toward the door. At first I was a little stunned. I thought she'd meant she had to 'go' like in the bathroom, but clearly Jade was focused on leaving. Jade was rarely in her hurry, usually she was content to sit and stew. I found her abrupt need to go a little bit unsettling, but I had no reason to deny her request. At the time, Jade was very young and she'd never purposefully messed with someone for fun, or out of malice. I had no possible way of knowing what she'd done. Without question, I mutely left the restroom to help her put on her rain clothes, then we left.

It wasn't until we got home and Jade hopped out of the car that I noticed she'd been hiding something in the backseat with her. Clutched in her left hand, was a tattered black hammer. It's head was rusted and it's handle was a faded blue from years of use. "Jade... why do you have that?" I asked, trying to seem innocent. For a moment I thought she'd ignore me but she waved the heavy object in her hand and looked up with a humdrum expression, "I found it. Grandpa said I could keep it." Instantly I knew she was lying. If Frank woke up from his almost constant state of slumber, I'd have known it. He was loud as a freight train, constantly whooping and hollering about some crass joke he'd just heard. There was no doubt in my mind that Jade had found it, but she'd also most certainly stolen it. Strange as it is to say, it isn't the stealing I thought disturbing, but the object itself. Jade seldom showed real interest in any 'toys', those that were unlucky enough to draw her engrossment were usually broken beyond mending. However she stood, stroking the cool metal like it was a fragile porcelain doll, and the object of said affection was only a hammer! Unsure how to proceed I simply went inside of the house to make supper.

Jade hummed merrily behind me, clutching the 'new toy' to her chest and slinking into her room. The door made a loud thumping noise as it swung closed behind her as the frame stopped the swinging wood. I remember yelling something about not slamming things as the phone rang but I can't recall if she answered. I cradled the plastic phone in the crook between my collar bone and neck whilst continuing to stir the rice in my bowl. "West residence," I answered distractedly, still thinking about Jade slamming her door. "Where is she?" Coleen's infuriated tone bellowed through the receiver and nearly damaged my ears. My lips drew into a tight line, I'd never once heard her raise her voice before. Yelling was something that 'proper ladies didn't do', and she was most certainly proper (even if that was all she happened to be). "What are you talking about Coleen I can't hear you when you squawk like a bird!" I grumbled, setting the bowl down on the counter roughly. My hands found their way to my hips in annoyance. I'd had all the Coleen I could stomach today, and my fuse was running short.

"That _**demon** _you refer to as a child! She's ruined my china, every bit of it! I know it was her don't deny it!" She rambled. The sound of crunching glass and slamming cabinets could be heard in the background as the old woman searched for something to take out her anger on. If possible, I felt myself go pale in the face. "Jade smashed your fine china?" I asked, utterly horrified at the moment. Such violence wasn't common for her and yet I could never put anything beyond Jade's reach. A long silence buzzed over the receiver as Coleen stopped in what I assumed to be thought. "No..." She said softly, I could tell she was a little confused, "But my cabinet, my china cabinet! I went to pull open the door and it just collapsed. COLLAPSED VIVIAN! It was her, I know it was!" Now it was my turn to be confused. Could Jade have _really_ done something so cruel... yes. But at her age could she _**really** _make it look like an accident... I have to say yes. As much as I wanted to doubt my child's ruthless intelligence, I couldn't bring myself to. Without a single word, I set down the phone and went to Jade's room.

She was sitting on the bed, hammer at her side, reading book a children's book and looking totally bored. "Jade." I beckoned, but got no response from her, "Jade! Don't you ignore me I have to ask you something important. You look up right now." She tossed the book aside and perked up her brow at me in silent question. "Did you do something to grandma Coleen's cabinet with all her fancy china?" I said solemnly, already knowing the honest answer. Jade shrugged innocently and shook her head, "No. She gets really mad if I touch it." I frowned and stomped over to her, bending down to her level, "Jade, look me in the eyes and know that you need to tell the truth... no matter what. Did you do something to grandma Coleen's china cabinet?" The little girl in front of me adamantly shook her head, "I said **no**. I don't **care** about grandma Coleen." Jade took a long pause after that and looked at her feet dejectedly, "But you always say that bad things happen to people who do mean things..." Her tone was defensive and cold, confirming my suspicions... but I had no proof. Coleen had no proof either. We both knew that she did it, yet we found ourselves unable to punish her for it. This would be another common issue I faced with Jade over her life, the mystery of the china cabinet was only the beginning.

I suppose there isn't much more to tell about my relationship or even my encounters with Jade. As the years seem to gallop by with the ferocity of a race horse, I'm lost in a blur of stories and memories, yet those few are the ones I remember the most. Not to say she didn't to bizarre things after that. Lord knows Jade hasn't failed to surprise me once when she's put her mind to it. But everything after her fifth year just sort of merged together in one giant dark, emotional, surprising, and lovely mass that my mind can not conceive to break apart. These specific moments were all my first experiences with the unique, beautiful, and strange child I'm blessed to have given birth to. I don't say 'the child I had' because I never really **had** Jade at all. I was a necessary ends to a mean. My purpose in her life little surpasses raising her in uteri and those first few years. After that, she quickly began to take on the world on her own. She resents me for it. She is angry that I brought her into this world without any answers or any knowledge of what needed to be done for her. And every day that she looses what little bit of a child she has left inside her, she resents me a little bit more. But even Jade is unable to stop her decent further down the peculiar path fate has set out for her. All I can hope for is that our strange, distant bond formed whilst she was a child never fades away completely. I pray to God that even if she leaves me behind on that very path, that she'll think back on me and one day pity my failures and short coming. Then maybe she'll realize I gave her _**everything** _I possibly could.


End file.
